


show me what love is

by msariadneoliver



Category: Rebecca - Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca - Daphne du Maurier & Related Fandoms, Rebecca - Levay/Kunze
Genre: Absolute tooth rotting fluff, F/F, Mistresses of Manderley, and a lesbian couple where one party has no canonical first name, and ich just absolutely adores her danny, danny might have a wee bit of a praise kink, guest appearance from lesbian icon beatrice lacy, the marriage of my complete refusal to write first person romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:53:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28127934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msariadneoliver/pseuds/msariadneoliver
Summary: A series of love languages. Five ways that Mrs. de Winter shows her love for Danny and one way Danny shows her love for Mrs. de Winter
Relationships: Mrs Danvers (Rebecca)/Ich, Mrs Danvers (Rebecca)/Mrs de Winter (Rebecca), Mrs Danvers (Rebecca)/Narrator (Rebecca)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	show me what love is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notinmyvocab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notinmyvocab/gifts).



**1\. Art**

It had never been a natural part of her talent, sketching the human form. The inanimate had always come the easiest, flowers, bowls of fruit, the seaside, but perhaps it was because that was what she was inclined to practice and perfect the most. All of her art had to be special, to mean something to her, and it was much more simple, finding meaning and attachment in material objects than in strangers or acquaintances. There were exceptions, of course, her father - who used to let her sketch him as he worked in that cramped library, even indulging in her insistence that he try not to move for hours at a time - a woman who taught English literature at the girl’s school she attended in her formative years and whom she had adored more than life itself at fifteen. Mrs. van Hopper had tried to cajole a portrait out of her more than once, always sour at the excuses before ultimately leaving the subject alone entirely. She had tried sketching Maxim too, but she still cringed to think of the result of those efforts. After that, it had been a while before she could strike up any courage to sketch anyone again.

She still remembered that first time she realized she wanted to sketch Danny. It had been several months after she had become more or less the sole mistress of Manderley. Her sketches had become her reprieve amidst the chaos of it all. The solitary of the morning room, sitting at the writing table with her sketchbook, Jasper sleeping at her feet. Danny was rearranging the flowers, throwing away the ones that were too wilted, and replacing them with fresh ones from the garden. It was one of those tasks that she knew Danny preferred to do herself, so particular about her method and lacking any sort of patience with the younger maids. She seemed especially particular about it that day, although perhaps she was taking her time with purpose. 

She was struck by the beauty in Danny’s profile, the way her dark hair caught the light of the room. She hesitated only for a moment, as she always did before she began, before she set her pencil to paper. She had always struggled with the perspective, first and foremost, but there was an ease with which she worked that day, as though she were driven by the quickening of her heartbeat whenever she looked upon her. 

“Madam?” 

“Hmm?” She started a little, accidentally running her hand across dark strokes

“Is there anything else you require?” Danny had an inquisitive look in her eyes, and she realized she must not have been terribly discreet, with her glances. She flushed with embarrassment, although only briefly.

“Yes. . . would you just stay right there for just a moment longer? Just like that?” A flicker of suspicion in Danny’s pale eyes, but she didn’t refuse. Danny could never refuse her anything, not really. She stood motionless, watching her through the corner of her eye, pursing her lips in that way she did when she was thinking, questioning. She realized that she hadn’t shared her sketching with Danny. She hardly shared them with anyone, especially these days. It didn’t seem fair, and perhaps it was time that she overcame some of her shyness.

“Danny . . . would you like to see?” The question seemed to give Danny some pause. Her expression remained unchanged, but she nodded.

“Of course,” She inhaled sharply when she felt Danny behind her, that thick fabric of her dress against her, her eyes on everything. It was Danny’s own gasp that surprised her, “It’s - me,”

“Yes,” She turned in her chair, facing her, then, “I - I hope it’s not too terrible, I’m a bit rusty with perspective . . .” 

“It isn’t terrible at all. I -” Danny traced her fingers ever so slightly along her likeness, an uncharacteristic bewilderment in her eyes, “I simply wouldn’t have thought I would be the right subject for -”

“Nonsense,” She insisted, “Why wouldn’t you be?” She could feel her face grow hot even as she said it, but the way her sharply defined features seemed to soften, the flicker of a smile she received in kind, perhaps there wasn’t so much shyness in her after all.

“It’s lovely, madam,” Danny said, finally. She ran her hand now across her mistress’s discovering the smears of graphite powder that blemished her skin. She might have felt that familiar self consciousness with anyone else,but then, “And to be an artist’s muse . . .” Danny kissed the stained hand and she couldn’t help the way the sensation made her shiver.

“I suppose it’s something else you’ll have to grow accustomed to.” Another smile.

“Yes. I suppose I will.” 

**2\. Thunderstorms**

“You know, pet, your bed in the east wing might have better accommodated the two of us,” Danny remarked, although not unkindly. Her response was to nuzzle closer against the nape of Danny’s neck, certain she could feel the smile against her skin.

“Well, if you’d like to move . . .” A throaty chuckle and the feeling of Danny’s fingers tracing up her back.

“No,” Danny said finally, “I think we’ll be alright.” It had become something of a habit for her to change into her nightclothes, and to make her way up to Danny’s bedroom in the servant’s quarters after everyone else had retired for the evening. Slipping under those thick quilts, where Danny would be waiting to collect her in her arms. The warmth of the blankets, mixed with Danny’s cool touch, her faint scent of vanilla. A contented lull between them.

Outside, the rain continued to beat down, the wind howling, causing the window panes to creak. A flash of light briefly illuminated the room, followed by the low rumbling of thunder. She could feel Danny tense, then, her grip tightening.

“I’ve never liked storms,” Danny murmured, her hands now finding their way up to run through her hair. “Even as a child. I could never sleep during one.” This caused her to tilt her head upward, meeting Danny’s eyes. It was difficult to picture her Danny as a child, to think of her as once being so small, pigtailed and roundfaced. 

“I’ve always loved them,” She admitted, with a soft smile, “I love the sound of thunder, and the rain. A night like this - is far more bearable to a night of silence”. She could see a furrow of worry in Danny’s brow then, with the appearance of another flash. 

“Oh, I know it’s foolish,” She said then, “Rebecca used to be so ruthless in the way she teased.” Danny gave a soft chuckle, but she could see that flicker of sadness in her eyes, and there was a pang in her chest. “I think that kind of chaos . . . it’s always made me uneasy.” She became quiet again, her head tilting away from the havoc outside.

She regarded Danny, for a moment, unable to help the heaviness in her heart. There was still so much that she didn’t know about her, so much that she was aching to. So much she seemed to carry inside. _Oh, Danny, my Danny._

“Ask me a question,” She whispered, suddenly. She traced her fingers along the outline of Danny’s cheek. 

“Hmm, what sort of question?”

“Anything. Whatever you like.” She hugged at Danny’s frame, “I have no secrets,” She was met with a wry smile, one that seemed to be reserved only for her. Danny seemed to understand what she was trying to do, without having to acknowledge the effort. How desperately she wanted Danny to feel safe, as safe as she always was, wrapped up together in that cozy little room. 

Danny kissed her fingers then, a ghost of a feeling, before tilting up her chin so that their lips could meet, with that familiar flutter of warmth. 

“Oh, my angel,” Danny sighed, when they pulled away “Have you ever noticed how perfectly we fit?” 

**+1 Knowledge**

It had become a habit of hers - to hide away in the evening hours in Manderley’s library, poring over as many books over the lamplight as she was able. She had several books stacked as high as they were willing to go, next to her chair. In her lap sat a book which documented the life and works of Vermeer, her legs tucked up beneath, an instinctive reading position that she had possessed since she was a child. As she was reading, she was filled with the sense of . . . something that gave her pause. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was precisely, almost as if she wasn’t entirely alone . . . 

“Madam?” She jumped, looking up to see Danny, only steps away, holding a cup and saucer.

“Oh! Danny, I’m sorry I - I didn’t see you.” She said the words before she could think, and she could see the realization hit Danny’s own somber features, her brows furrowed a fraction.

“I’m sorry, Madam. I was doing it again, wasn’t I? I promise that I don’t mean to.” Her eyes met the floor, lips pursing.

“It’s alright.” She beckoned Danny closer, unable to take her eyes off of her. She took Danny’s hand as she set down the cup - one of the pretty ones made of blue and white Russian porcelain - placing a kiss to her palm. “My beautiful specter,” She murmured, relishing in the way those words made Danny blush.

“I just came to bring you your tea.” Was her reply. 

“Oh,” She said again, “Thank you. But I don’t remember asking . . .” She took a sip, realizing that it was black with lemon, exactly how she always preferred to take it. 

“I simply remembered that this was when you liked to read. Which is when you also liked to take your tea. That is all,” Danny spoke so with such frankness, seemingly oblivious to her awe.

“That is quite the memory.” She remarked, with another sip.

“It isn’t, really.” Said Danny, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles along her dress. “I only remember the important things. If that is everything . . .” She was about to retreat back out of the library, when her voice rang out before she could stop herself.

“Danny, wait.” She did so, hesitating by the door. Danny could never refuse her anything. “May I ask you something?”

“You may ask, pet . . .” She set down her tea again, tilting her head as she studied her, 

“What - what exactly are some of these important things? That you remember?” Danny considered the question, seeming to take in the earnest curiosity in her mistress’s eyes. 

“Well,” Danny stepped forward again, “I know that you always like to read after supper in the evenings, that you prefer reading books on art and history over novels,” Another few steps closer, “I remember that your favorite flower is the azalea, because of their warm colors and because your father liked to paint them.” She had noticed that there were more azalea’s in the morning room, and suddenly her heart skipped, “I remember that your birthday is in late September, and that your middle name is Euridyce.” Danny’s amused smile was unmistakable and she blushed in spite of herself. 

“That I’m perhaps less enthused you took to memory,” She said, although she laughed. Danny continued,

“I remember that you don’t take milk in your tea because it makes you ill, and you think sugar ruins the taste, but lemon makes it perfect. And I remember that your nose always wrinkles when I do this,” Here, Danny rested her hands against the armchair, leaning in to kiss her on the forehead. She chuckled at the reaction. “See?” Danny was set to pull back, her point proven, but she grasped at her arms more tightly, pulling her back to kiss her more properly. 

“And you turn pink whenever I do that,” She remarked, but not unkindly. This elicited a rare laugh, Danny’s face lighting up with such warmth. She was always so transfixed, so overwhelmed by how beautiful she found Danny to be, and in that moment she was reminded of when they met, the way her breath caught so and her heart ready to leap out of her chest. _My beautiful specter._. . 

“I’ve - I’ve never had anyone care to remember so . . .”

“Think nothing of it, Madam,” She actually did pull away then, composing herself, returning to her mask of formality, as she always did when she knew she had to leave, but that smile never left her lips. “Enjoy your tea.” 

**3\. Placement**

She had come down to the kitchens, to Danny’s sitting room in order to go over the evening’s dinner menu, and was greeted at the sight of Danny frantically circling the room. She seemed to be looking for something, opening drawers and moving objects to and from their places with increasing force. She hesitated in the doorway, watching the scene unfold, momentarily wondering if she should come back later, when Danny noticed her. Her pale eyes were wild, but she softened when she realized who it was.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I -” She sighed, running a hand through her immaculately pinned hair. “I seem to have misplaced something.” 

“Oh?” She furrowed her brows, closing the door behind her. She scanned the room, trying to recall what she knew to be constants of the place, trying to see if she could see for herself, but so far having no luck. “What was it that you lost, exactly?”

“Nothing,” Danny answered, a bit too quickly. “I mean - that is to say - nothing important.”

“Nothing important that you seem to have taken apart most of this office in order to find it?” She tilted her head as Danny turned away, frowning.

“Nothing that you need worry about.” Danny said irritably, although she regretted it at once. She, however, remained unflinching.

“Danny.” Danny sighed, sinking down into her chair.

“I am sorry.” She said, finally, “Really, I - I don’t know what’s come over me.”

“It’s alright, darling, really. I understand. You like keeping everything in its proper place.” At this moment, she happened to catch a glimpse outside, catching the sight of Clarice and Alice pointing towards the sitting room and whispering together. She narrowed her eyes, but tried again, “If you like, I can help you -”

“That really isn’t necessary, Madam. Like I told you, it isn’t anything important. I’m sure I can find it. I would rather just continue with other things, if you don’t mind.” 

“Of course,” And she began to discuss menus and sauces, but she couldn’t ignore the nagging in the back of her mind.

She waited until some time after Danny had gone upstairs, busy with viewing day, before she sought out Alice and Clarice. The maids were huddled in the morning room, finishing with the fire, amid a fit of giggling. They went silent at once when they heard her come in. Alice possessed her usual air of defiance, but she could see the way Clarice was worrying at her lips.

“May I have a moment?” She asked them, almost innocently

“Is there anything wrong Madam?” Clarice was the one to ask, although her face still betrayed her. Alice wouldn’t even look at her directly.

“I believe that you might have some idea as to what Mrs. Danvers has misplaced this morning?” She folded her arms, her tone and expression cool. 

“Has Mrs. Danvers misplaced something?” Clarice began to falter.

“Clarice, I would rather not waste my time with these sorts of games. Now, we both know that you can’t tell a lie very well, but if this is what you insist, I have no qualms involving your mother to settle the matter . . .” This did the trick, and the dam burst at once.

“It was all Alice’s idea!”

“Clarice!” 

“We hid it, you see. Only as a joke, to see how long it would take for her to notice . . . we didn’t realize that it would upset her so.” Judging by the look on Alice’s face, she very much doubted _that_. 

“And what was _it_ exactly?” Neither girl answered her. “Oh, for heaven's sake. Can you show me where it’s hidden at least?” They could, and soon she was being led back down into the kitchens, with Alice begrudgingly retrieving something from one of the linen drawers. When Alice presented it to her, she realized that it was the little china cupid. That little china cupid that she had broken all those months ago, fixed to not quite its original condition. One of the only things from before that Danny had insisted on keeping. She exhaled, a little shakily, but kept her voice cold and steady. 

“Seeing as the statue has not suffered any additional harm, I suppose I can return it to its rightful place. I am willing to keep things discreet. You can return to your work, and we don’t need to tell Mrs. Danvers about this little . . . excursion at her expense.” She said, seeing the relief wash over both of them, “But, should something like this ever happen again. Anything like it. Rest assured, I will not be so generous. Nor, I’m sure, will Mrs. Danvers.” 

“I suppose you’re only saying that because you and Mrs. Danvers are -” Alice began, but she cut her words off with a sharp deftness. 

“Regardless of how you feel towards her, Mrs. Danvers is still a part of Manderley. Same as you. And I will not tolerate any disrespect of her, or of anyone else, if you wish to remain here. Have I made myself perfectly understood?” An uncomfortable silence filled the room as both girls stared at her, wide eyed, as though they had been struck. 

“Yes, madam,” Came the eventual collective mumble. 

“Alright then. Now let’s all return to our work, shall we?” She held the statue protectively to her chest as she followed the two scuttling maids back upstairs. As Alice disappeared, fuming down the hall, Clarice hesitated.

“I really am sorry, Mrs. de Winter.” She said, and she certainly appeared anguished, wringing her hands. “I shouldn’t have agreed to it. It’s just, Alice had noticed how particular Mrs. Danvers can be about her things and -” 

“And?”

“And . . . well, it really was just a sort of joke . . . I suppose.” 

“Not a terribly funny one.”

“No.” She could see the tears prickling in Clarice’s eyes now, and she softened, reaching into her skirt pocket for a handkerchief. 

“Come now, none of that.” She allowed Clarice a moment to compose herself. “There was no serious harm done. I only ask that you learn from this and that nothing like it happens again.”

“It won’t, Madam, I promise it won’t.” She offered Clarice a warm smile. 

It was later, when she returned to the sitting room with a pot of tea and biscuits, this time with the intention of reviewing the menu and seating arrangement for a function Manderley was to be having in a week’s time, that she found Mrs. Danvers different, less flustered and more bewildered. 

“Wherever did you find it?” She asked. 

“Find what, darling?” Much like Clarice, she was not a terribly convincing actress. “Oh, you know. I think one of the others was moving things to clean. Forgot to put it back.” Danny raised her brow at this, but she did not say anymore. She played Mother, pouring the tea, before she looked to her with a soft, questioning gaze.

“You remember where I kept it before.” Danny murmured. 

“O-oh. Yes. Of course I did. I try to remember how you keep everything.” Perhaps not the best phrasing, and she cringed at herself, but Danny chuckled.

“I’m sorry. About earlier, I mean. I know that I can be a bit . . .” She trailed off.

“You aren’t.” She insisted. “Well, it’s not as though it’s a terrible thing to be, is it? How else could Manderley be run so? Like a swiss watch?” She reached out, entwining Danny’s hand in her own. “And there is nothing to be sorry for. I only wish you had told me before that it was the statue you had lost.” 

“You’re right,” Danny sighed, “I should have. I suppose that I didn’t - because it was a trinket of hers . . .” _Of Rebecca’s._

“Oh, Danny,” She squeezed her hand gently. “You don’t have to worry about that. I understand completely. Her memory, I don’t begrudge you that.” She leaned over to kiss the knuckles of Danny’s nimble hand, eyes never leaving hers. Some of the worry seemed to leave Danny, then, as her frame relaxed. She pulled away reluctantly, standing up, and walking over to the little statue.

“I don’t only keep it because of Rebecca, you know,” She said, after a moment, “It makes me think of you now too.”

“Does it?” 

“Yes. All the cracks and repairs. How you brought the pieces to me and we fixed it together. I think that might have been when -” She stopped herself suddenly, regaining some of her more familiar composure. “I enjoy keeping the reminder, is all.” Danny returned to her desk, leaning in to kiss the crown of her head, smiling as she watched the blush creep to her cheeks. 

“And I’m not the only one who keeps Manderley going like a Swiss watch.” She added, “I don’t know what happened this afternoon, but I haven’t ever seen Alice so keen to stay out of trouble. And Clarice has practically been my shadow . . .”

It was amazing how harmonious things could be, when order was kept so in the halls of Manderley. 

**4\. Intimacy**

Her lips trailed down Danny’s neck, eliciting another sigh and her own shiver of longing. The feeling of nails tracing up her back and digging into her thigh was almost too delicious to bear, and she began to grind more frantically against where she straddled her and they met, hot and wet and intimate, chasing for more friction.

“Danny . . .” She whined, head falling to Danny’s shoulder, “Danny . . . _oh,”_ Danny tilted her chin upward again, and she was struck by the sight before her. Danny’s dark hair cascading down around her face, hopelessly disheveled, her blue eyes darkened with want, the flush of her pale skin, She reached up to kiss her almost desperately, murmuring along her lips, 

“Beautiful, so very beautiful” This made Danny turn her face away, scoffing quietly. She didn’t quite believe her, and that simply wouldn’t do. She stilled her motions for a moment, panting, her hands caressed along Danny’s sharp jaw, down to her breasts, - always in need of her attention - travelling to ghost along her thighs, before one hand found its way between her legs. She leaned in to kiss her again as her thumb stroked along her sensitive nerves, breathing in her gasp and relishing in the way her entire frame arched into her.

“Oh, _darling,_ ” Danny sighed and shuddered, clinging to her tighter, urging her to move with her again. She kissed along Danny’s jaw, running her hand through those dark curls, whispering more praise and nothings, 

_“So lovely . . . wonderful . . . all mine . . . my Danny. . .”_ She could feel the words make Danny moan quietly, as she began to keen and tense now at her touch, that familiar indication that she was close, and with little warning, she positioned her fingers to thrust inside her, thumb pressing down once more against those nerves. 

She could never tire of it, the way Danny threw her head back, crying out high and strained, rutting her hips as she rode out the waves of her climax. How anyone couldn’t crave every single thing about these unravelings, not want them at every moment like a drug?

Danny had taken advantage of her distraction, giving her barely time to remove her hand, maneuvering them suddenly so that she was now lying on her back, legs wrapping instinctively around Danny’s waist. Danny pushed almost carelessly at the slip that still clung to her, her own fingers now mirroring her actions from seconds ago, curling mercilessly into her folds. She was coming undone in almost no time at all, Danny’s name broken on her lips as she felt that release wash over her.

When their breathing finally began to slow, she regained enough sense to run her soiled hand across the bedsheets, before reaching and pulling Danny to her to kiss her again.

“That was unfair,” She managed, with a laugh, “I wanted to make you do that again for me.”

“Insatiable little minx,” Danny teased, but there was a softness as she kissed her again and again and again. Danny rested a hand against her chest, as she always did after they made love, feeling the fast and certain beating of her heart. She laced their fingers together, and sulked in their shared warmth. The night was still young, she knew, and Manderley was theirs for the taking. They had all the time they liked to enjoy each other, all the time for her to show Danny just how much she wanted her always.

**5\. Amethyst**

The butterflies had not left her stomach almost the entire evening. She managed to hide them well, mingling with her party guests and moving about the room like a wind up toy. She kept hold of a flute of champagne, more for the act of keeping her hands busy - she could hardly drink more than a few sips. She did have to admit to herself that there was a certain euphoria to be had about the evening itself. Her second costume ball at Manderley - her first as its sole mistress - and it appeared to be by all measures, a rousing success. Playing hostess had come with a surprising ease. It helped to be more acquainted with nearly everyone, many of whom were staff, to feel at ease with everyone, with no albatrosses wound about her neck. She had danced with Frank, who had stepped on her toes by mistake and how they had laughed over it. She delighted in seeing the staff enjoying themselves too, and she deftly ignored Mrs. van Hopper’s perhaps less than subtle questions and objections. She liked all the compliments she received about her costume, a gown of shimmering white silk, with an empire waist and gold lining. Her hair had grown out enough to curl and pull up ornately, with a matching gold piece. A copy of a portrait of Empress Josephine, one of her favorites. She had thought it would be better to pick something more simple, something she knew was for her. It was strange, feeling as though she might be pretty. 

Still, she kept scanning the room anxiously, searching, thinking, anticipating. She fidgeted with her reticule, feeling for a familiar weight inside it, as though she were worried something might have happened to it in the 

When she was unable to stand it any longer, she sought out Beatrice. Beatrice, dressed as a valkyrie, with her swollen belly protruding from the silver material and her comical wig of blonde braids, beamed at her, pulling her into a rather affectionate embrace and patting her rather roughly on the shoulders.

“Is everything alright, my dear?” Beatrice asked her, “You seem . . .distracted,” 

“Oh yes, perfectly.” She said quickly. “I was just - you haven’t seen D- Mrs. Danvers around, have you?”

“Danvers? I think she might have slipped out a while ago. I don’t know where.” 

“I see.” This time she took a much more generous drink, “Listen, Bee, there’s something - I think I have to slip out too, for a moment. Would you mind just saying that I stepped out for a bit of air? If anybody asks?”

“Of course I wouldn’t mind. Here, let me.” Beatrice took her glass from her, finding an end table, so set it down on, “I can keep an eye on things here for you.” As she said this, there was a gregarious roar from across the room. Mrs. van Hopper having roped poor Robert into a corner, she about three sheets to the wind, and Robert the very picture of a mouse trapped by its tail under the cat’s paw. She and Beatrice grimaced simultaneously.

“. . . and I’ll see what I can do about that. It will be like my head girl days all over again.” 

“You’re a dear, Bee. Thank you.” She kissed her sister on the cheek.

“You know. . . Beatrice said, “All those times you’ve told me stories about her . . . I truly thought you were having me on.” She couldn’t help but bubble with laughter. 

She was grateful for the quiet, once she left the ballroom, and she found her bearings quickly, walking through Manderley’s long, and now abandoned halls. She had an instinct to try the west wing first, slipping into it, and closing the doors quietly behind her. Most of the rooms were dark, no signs of inhabiting anyone. Then, she felt that cool breeze from that room at the end of the hall. Of course. 

She found the windows to be open, and discovered Danny standing out on the veranda. The winter breeze billowing at the skirts of her dress, her leaning against the railing as she gazed out at the ocean, giving her that aura of a specter. She stood there for a moment, taking in Danny’s regal beauty, almost overwhelmed by it. She could feel those butterflies again, more intensely, now, but she was too determined, and she was drawn to Danny like a moth to a flame. 

“I thought that I might find you here,” She finally said, as she approached the doorway. She hadn’t expected Danny to actually start so, it was practically impossible to sneak up on her. And yet -

“Oh,” Danny didn’t take her eyes off of her, a hand covering her mouth, “I didn’t - I don’t believe I’ve properly seen - that gown . . .” She inhaled, her breath shaky, “You look beautiful.” A warmth crept over her, so different from the usual embarrassed, self conscious heat that rose to her cheeks. _Beautiful_. Danny seemed frozen in place, as though afraid to even touch her, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. It was so unlike her, yet so recognizable, and she couldn’t bear to see it. She reached out for Danny’s hands, so spindly and pale and familiar, bringing the knuckles to her lips. 

“You’re cold,” She murmured.

“I’m perfectly fine,” Danny insisted. “I enjoy it out here.” Their hands stayed entwined together. There was a contented lull, between them, for a while, a savoring of quiet, and perhaps other things.

“It was so strange, you know,” Said, Danny, finally, still possessing a reluctance in her voice, “Seeing you fit the part of mistress of this house so naturally. Maderley does become you so. As though you were always meant to be a part of it.”

“Something I couldn’t have done without you.” Danny turned away from her, scoffing. “Danny, it’s true. You’ve helped me so much - in so many ways, I -” She thought about reaching into her reticule then but she hesitated. “I found something recently. This post-card I bought as a child, with a picture of Manderley on it. It cost nearly all of my pocket money,” And she chuckled. “It seems almost eerie now, the connection I seemed to feel for it. When there was still Maxim, it almost felt wrong to me. How funny now , for it to be so a part of me that I can’t imagine my life without it.” Her breath caught again as she added, “And I think I realize now that, in a way, it was directions to you.” Danny’s expression of disbelief, on that possessed her so visibly, was what made her reach into the reticule then, what gave her that certainty that this was what she wanted more than she had wanted anything. She wished, afterward, that she could have captured the gasp Danny gave when she pulled out that little box, saw what was inside, her own exhilaration, in her bottle of memories. A ring of rose gold, with an amethyst - Danny’s birthstone - glittered in the moonlight.

“Before you say anything. The last time I was in London . . . I was thinking. I suppose it’s obvious that I married in haste before. A silly girl, who deprived herself of so many things. That feels so long ago. There’s plenty that I regret, but so, _so_ much more that I don’t. None of this could even _be,_ without you. You’re as much mistress of this house - perhaps even more. And I thought - I thought you should have -” She laid a hand gently on Danny’s, keeping her resolve, despite the tremor in her voice. “I love you. And I will always love you. And you must know that if I could ever marry again, if I were to marry anyone in this world, you have to know that it would be you. Perhaps it’s silly to think about, but just suppose . . .” She pulled the ring out of its case, the box finding its way back into the reticule, before lifting Danny’s trembling hand slipping the ring onto her finger. 

That first wave of shock seemed to pass over Danny, her eyes wet with tears, and she wiped at them with her sleeve. The sound of her name, a mumble, through Danny’s lips, over and over, so sweetly, in a way that made her start.

“I -” Danny began, “I love you so much. More than I ever thought possible. And you make me feel so -” A slight shuddering sob, “So loved. I - I wish there was something I could offer you.”

“Danny, there is nothing you could offer me that you do not already give. Every single day. Here and now. Just . . . be mine. And let me be yours.” Danny smiled through shining adoring eyes. 

“Yes,” And they melted into each other. She kissed Danny with all the love she possessed within her, deep and hungry, heightened by the sensation of being gathered up in Danny’s arms. They kissed away each other's tears, each touch filled with such tenderness and promise and love, murmuring the words enough in those minutes, perhaps to last a lifetime, with the knowledge that that was what they would truly have. 

Manderley was her home, and everyone within she had come to adore so fiercely, and soon they would have to return to them, and happily too. But for now, what could compare to this home, this warm embrace, as the snow began to fall around them on the balcony. Their foreheads rested together, and she sighed with content. 

“My Danny,” she said, at last, “How perfectly we fit.” 

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from one of the songs in Rebecca das Musical. While the musical is where I was influenced most heavily, specifically the production with Pia Douwes and Lucy Scherer, there is also hints of Joan Fontaine and Judith Anderson, and even a little KST and Lily James. Whichever versions of the characters rock your boat. This one is a Christmas gift for Alli, who is a terrific writer and an even better friend, I hope you like it :)


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